How Red Was My Face
by myboygeorge
Summary: WARNING: SPOILERS FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS...It's been a year since the events of the end of DH, things are back to normal and Hermione needs some embarassing quesitons answered
1. Part One

Hermione couldn't believe she was going to have to do this and in the ladies' toilet at school no less. It was too embarrassing for words that she would seek such answers from the one person she'd rather conceal everything from all together. Well, maybe not the one person, but the next-to-one person she'd rather not have heard this. Still it was probably best to it over with, rather than later. Asking after the fact meant potentially even more fire and brimstone being rained down on both their heads about responsibility for their actions, words that had often escaped her own lips when chastising her two favourite boys.

Picking up the compact that was outfitted with a two-way mirror, she spoke clearly. "Hello?"

From the tiny bit of reflecting glass, she heard the soft shuffle of feet, saw Molly Weasley's face. "Oh hello, dear, I'm afraid Ron's outside with Arthur de-gnoming the garden. Would you like to speak with him?"

"Actually, I wanted to know if I could stop by for tea this afternoon, when I'm done in my classes. Just the two of us."

"Well of dear, my kitchen is always open to you."

"Thanks. I should be arriving around four."

Hermione smiled, as she closed the compact. She'd done it. Now she had to pray she didn't collapse of humiliation.

After her last class, Hermione chose to walk back to her quarters in Diagon Alley rather than Apparate; she wanted the time for reflection. It had been just over a year since Voldemort's defeat and things had gone back to normal as best as they could. Ron, Harry and Hermione had all returned to Hogwarts to sit their NEWT classes, and as expected, Hermione graduated at the top of their class, with Harry and Ron finishing fifteenth and nineteenth respectively, in a class of nearly forty. Hermione had been offered and accepted entrance into Kermartin's School for Wizarding Law, while Harry had rerouted his quest to become an Auror, and instead taken a position helping to rebuild the virtually shattered Ministry; he'd become a founding member along with Ginny, Cho Chang and other former members of the Defence Academy – the DA for short, a tip of the cap to its roots – the newly revised program for training those wishing to become Aurors.

Even Ron turned out alright, he'd opted to take a general two-year course at Ambrose, the liberal wizarding arts and sciences school for students who were not quite sure of a career path but wished to continue their studies beyond their OWLs and NEWTs. Her mouth turned up at the corners as she remembered how proud he'd been to be accepted, since his NEWTs had been a gruelling experience. Hermione had been constantly brewing him his favourite tea, a fusion she'd concocted as part of her Herbology independent studies that was designed to alleviate stress brought on by too much information trying to be crammed into the brain.

Ron's idea of relieving stress was something much more physical though, that was, snogging her senseless until she was certain her brain turned to Flobberworms. And who knew Ron Weasley, of all people, would have turned out to be such a good kisser? Certainly not Hermione, recalling how in their sixth year he'd looked like a squid trying to suck Lavender Brown's face clear off. But that was when they'd been virtually children, before the events of the summer before when everything finally came to a head, and Hermione had finally felt the snap, and in the middle of fending off Death Eaters, she'd surprised the hell out of both Ron and herself when she'd planted a whopping kiss on his lips.

At first Ron had pestered her as to whether or not he was a better kisser than Krum; Hermione had simply acted haughty and told him that it wasn't his business. Secretly, Hermione thought that Viktor was the equivalent of kissing a slobbering pit bull compared to Ron though she'd never give him the satisfaction of knowing it until she needed a weapon up her sleeve.

Hermione climbed the stairs to the apartment above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, murmured _Alohamora_ and walked in. She was surprised to find George sitting at the counter reading _The Daily Prophet_ and drinking Butterbeer from a short glass.

"Oh, hi George, I thought you'd still be working now. It's only four."

"Alicia's coming back from France tonight, so I took the afternoon to do some work around the house before.

"How did the tournament go?"

"Good, good, the Dervishes finished third overall, they weren't expected to even make it past the round-robin tourney, so they're thrilled. She'll definitely be in a mood to celebrate." George added a devilish wiggle of the eyebrows at this last bit. When Hermione didn't laugh, simply strode past him to change out of school robes, George set the paper aside and knocked on her door. "What's got your otter swimming, then?"

Hermione opened the door, changed into a powder blue jumper and jeans. "Hmm? Oh, nothing, just thinking if I should take your mother anything, I'm going to have tea with her."

"No need. Friday, that's Mum's baking day. She'll have the larder stocked to busting. Oh and no need to worry about Alicia staying here, we're staying with her team at Whitting's End." George checked his watch, swallowed the last of his drink. "Speaking of which, I need to pack. I'll make sure the doors are locked when I leave."

Hermione nodded, then went to the corner of the sitting room that was marked off for Apparating. She closed her eyes, pictured the front lane of the burrow, and turned in a graceful circle. When she opened her eyes, she found herself not five metres from the Weasleys' front door. Her feet appeared to have turned to lead as she went up to the front door and knocked. What on earth had she been thinking? She couldn't talk to Molly about this, it was way too embarrassing. Before she could decide whether to chicken out and Disapparate, the door was flung open and Molly was there, smothering the nineteen-year-old against her chest.

"So lovely to see you my dear. Come in, come in, I've got that wonderful fusion of yours in the kettle; the men will want some for after they've finished working. Ronald's Astronomy class finished earlier than he expected, so he agreed to come home and help Arthur in the yard today. I've just pulled some raspberry jam tarts out of the oven, they're Ron's favourites. How are you finding living with my boys? Are you sure you don't want a female roommate, like Harry and Ginny?"

Hermione had to smile. Harry, Ginny, along with Neville (training to be a Herbologist) and a cousin of Neville's, Athena San Pedro all lived within wand distance from the Ministry, while Ron and Hermione had taken up residence with George above the joke shop. Both Ron and George neglected to tell their mother that they kept Fred's room empty out of respect, and that Ron and Hermione shared a room…and bed for that matter.

Molly nudged Hermione into a seat, fixed their tea cups and brought a plate of the famous tarts to the table.

"Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

With a shaky hand Hermione stirred in honey as Molly smiled kindly. For once in her life, she found herself unable to use the proper terms, fell back on the old Muggle euphemism as she said in a rush, "I want to ask you about…the birds and bees in the wizard world."


	2. Part Two

Hermione braced herself for Mrs Weasley's reaction. While it wasn't the raging embarrassment she'd expected, there was a long moment of awkward silence. Finally Molly spoke.

"What exactly do you want to know, do you mean, the process of wizard birth?" she eyed Hermione like a hawk hoping the mouse in its sights moved, "or is this more of a general wonderment about…everything?"

Hermione took another sip of tea. "I wanted know…I mean, how might one…how does wizard birth control work exactly?" she asked, squeezing her eyes shut, her face feeling like it was on fire. "I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley, really, I should have gone to a healer at school. The last thing you need is your youngest son's girlfriend asking you…well."

She felt a strong hand on her forearm squeezing reassuringly. Peeling open a cautious eye, Hermione saw that even though Mrs. Weasley's face had gone as red as her hair, there was still a smile on her face.

"I understand how difficult this must have been for you Hermione. Heaven knows I never would have been able to be so upfront with Arthur's mother at your age. And you're right, I'd just as soon not know about you and Ron…like that, but I think you've done the mature thing asking before hand and I'm glad you came to me," Molly decided, equally unable to say the words like Hermione, "just like did Ginny a few months ago in regards to her and Harry."

Molly took a bite of one of the tarts, licking a stray crumb off her lip with her tongue. "Now, what exactly do you want to know?"

Hermione flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet, feeling a surge of sister like protection towards Ginny. "Um, well, obviously I know how things work in the Muggle world, my parents made sure I took that health course before going to Hogwarts. But I've been thinking about it a lot lately and mainly, I was interested in knowing if the same…contraceptive methods from the Muggle world work for witches and wizards."

"Ah, I see. You and Ron have reached that conversation have you?"

Hermione could only nod, her voice having disappeared on her again. They'd actually had the conversation the week before, when they'd been locked in a late-night interlude so passionate the plates in the kitchen cupboards had begun to rattle. Neither one had been able to face George the next day, who'd obviously heard more than he wanted to. That had been the deal breaker for Hermione, who'd refused Ron's advances until she found some of her own answers. Ron thankfully, had not taken the typical male route; rather appreciated that she was a Muggle-born and to his knowledge, had no prior reason for asking certain questions. Hermione's decision to talk to Molly was not because she was Ron's mother and wanted him ratted out, but rather the only person she felt comfortable talking to about such things. Ginny had been considered and rejected, not wanting to embarrass more people than necessary, so it had fallen on Molly to answer these humiliating questions.

"He has been wonderfully kind and respectful of me, Mrs Weasley. It's just that we've been together for over a year now, and things just…happen and I don't want other things to…happen."

"Alright. Well, contrary to the Muggle world, the wizard community considers that kind of intimate decision between partners just that – intimate. It's up to the individual to research which form of protection is the most effective for them. I will recommend the same potion I gave to Ginny. That particular potion can also be used by men as well, so you give it to Ron to use as well."

Molly stood up, took Hermione to the toilets on the second floor and pulled out her _Personal Potions and You_ manual, flipped through until she found the recipe for Anti-Naissance Potion.

"Yes, this is for first time users, minimal side effects include a heightened sense of hearing and very rarely do some people experience sprouting of small blue hairs around the fingernails on but that's only if the potion is brewed improperly."

Molly pointed her wand at the book and said, "_Duplicato_." The book produced a second copy of the page. "You can mix up a cauldron of this; I have some supplies leftover from Ginny asking for it. I'll keep Ron and his father downstairs."

Molly left Hermione with her thoughts and the book as she heard the woman downstairs greet the men, telling them to wash in the kitchen since Hermione had just ducked into the lavatory. Knowing she didn't have much time, she pulled out the bottles and mixed their contents in the mini-cauldron on the side of the sink. Looking at the instructions, she muttered the incantation and drank the contents. A warming sensation filled Hermione's body, from her toes to her scalp; for a moment in the mirror, Hermione saw the irises of her eyes turn purple, which according to the instructions meant it had been brewed properly and taken effect for the next fortnight.

Stuffing the instructions back into her pocket, Hermione bounded back down the stairs, felt her breath hitch as she saw Ron looking embarrassed as Arthur spoke to Molly.

"Your son was asking about that book in the second floor medicine chest, Molly, about that particular potion?"

Hermione smiled to herself as she went into the kitchen. Apparently Ron had been having an equally embarrassing conversation with his father in the garden. She walked in, kissed Ron's burning cheek as he muttered in his tea.

"You could have told my Hermione was here, Mum."

"So what do you young people have planned for the night?"

"I've had a long week of studying, so I was thinking of trying out that new recipe for fried pickerel you gave me Molly," Hermione said with a flick of the eyebrow, hoping Molly got the message. "It sounds delicious."

Molly merely smiled over her tea, her eyes twinkling. "Well, then don't let me keep you two from heading out. Arthur, you should take a shower before dinner. I've made steak Wellington your favourite."

They exchanged their goodbyes and watched as Ron and Hermione Disapparated back to their home in Diagon Alley. Once there, Ron took off his travelling cloak, curiosity painted on his face.

"What the bloody hell was that about? I know you're not making fried pickerel, so-"

It was as far as he got before Hermione launched herself into his arms, kissing him passionately like the world might come to an end if she didn't. Ron's only reaction was to wrap his arms around her to try and steady his balance. When she finally let him breathe, he looked at her more confused than ever.

"Seriously, what's going on?"

"I got your mother to give me the Anti-Naissance potion."

Hermione waited for his reaction, surprised when he put a hand to his chest and said in pure relief, "Oh thank God. If I'd had to go to my mother to ask for it, which Dad very nearly made me do, I'd have died on the spot."

"What, and you think it was easier for me to ask her for it?"

"Well you're both girls, I just figured…" Ron trailed off before he could dig the hole any deeper. Instead, he tugged on Hermione's hand to pull her towards their room. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Hermione grinned genuinely this time, with a smile full of nerves and anticipation. "I bet you will."


	3. Part Three

The following morning Hermione awoke with a stiff neck from having fallen asleep lying on Ron's chest. He still snored like a wounded centaur but Hermione had learned to live with it. She lay a palm flat against his chest and thought about the night before.

She had heard many of her girl neighbours talking about 'doing it' with their boyfriends and to Hermione, it had always sounded so barbaric. The idea of putting _that_ in _there_ simply disgusted her, right up until she'd met Krum. Not that she'd ever considered anything like that with him; she'd only been a young girl with a crush after all. Since Viktor and her had decided to simply remain good friends after she visited him on her summer holidays, her thoughts had once again drifted away from boys and any romantic entanglements. Well, all but one boy.

And now they were lovers. Hermione didn't quite know what to think of the whole thing first off. It had been more than a little awkward and embarrassing for both of them – neither had seen the other one completely naked until the previous night – and yet Hermione couldn't help but think the first time around wasn't so bad. It could have been a lot worse; she could have laughed at him, or worse he could have laughed at her. She wondered if she would look any different to him when he woke up. She didn't feel all that different, other than a little sore where the whole thing took place. Her girl friends forgot to mention that one, hadn't they, when they'd been bragging about everything else. For a fleeting moment Hermione wondered if maybe it was because she'd been so disdainful of sexual physicality beyond kissing that she had been in pain when it occurred.

Ron shifted then, turned in his sleep towards Hermione and caught her in the chin with his forearm by accident. She gave a muffled yelp, hoping that he hadn't awakened. But then, his eyes were slowly opening, a gloriously rich smoke colour. His voice was rusty and thick with sleep.

"Morning."

"Morning," she replied, studying his face. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Like the dead. You?"

"Fine," she fibbed lightly, rubbing her neck lightly. "So, um…last night, that was…okay, I guess?"

Ron looked at Hermione incredulously. "Okay? That's the best you can come up with?"

"I'm sorry Ronald, but I'm new to this whole thing, the same as you are, so don't get your wand in a knot. And speaking of which, you weren't on the receiving end of _that_."

"I bloody well wasn't, but me brothers warned me that it hurts a lot of girls the first time."

"Your brothers warned you? Which ones?"

"Charlie and Bill, the ones who are married," Ron said defensively, politely leaving out George's name and his tales of his escapades with Alicia. He put a hand on Hermione's cheek. "I didn't want to hurt you, so I did what I thought was right to make it not hurt," he added awkwardly.

Touched Hermione put her hand over his. Of course Ron would always think of her first, hadn't he always – or most of the time – when they were at Hogwarts? Scooting closer in the bed to him, she smiled and kissed his lips softly. "Well, now that that's out of the way, I think I know what part comes next."

"Breakfast?" Ron asked teasingly. It turned out that for all her textbook knowledge Hermione was a disaster in the kitchen, and that Ron had inherited his mother's skill with a chopping knife. He knew if he wanted to egg his girlfriend on, all he had to suggest was a culinary adventure and she'd turn white as Harry's precious Hedwig Junior.

"No," Hermione shook her head teasingly. She kissed him again, this time with enough force that when she leaned, she rolled him onto his back so she was lying on top of him once again. Her hands twined though his shaggy flaming locks as she pressed her body into his. "Practice, Ron, lots of practice."

The second time around was much better, Hermione concluded as she tried to catch her breath. This time it hadn't felt like an alien invasion, but it had been rather enjoyable, for both of them. They had taken their time with each other, rather than like the first time when they just hopped right into things. Hermione could have sworn she heard a small rattle of plates in the kitchen; this seemed to be the manifestation of her enjoyment of the act. But then it was also very windy today...

They didn't laze around in bed long, though; Ron wanted to make breakfast and take a look downstairs in his brother's shop, see if he needed a hand with the back to school rushes. As he walked into the kitchen, still in his pyjama clothes he'd put on after making love with Hermione, Ron stopped short when he saw his older brother sitting at the kitchen table.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were staying with Alicia?"

"Change of plans, mate. Her train from France had to postpone departure because of thunderstorms in Normandy. Couldn't risk crossing the Channel and losing the lot of them." George paused before adding, "Did you and Hermione have a nice night?"

It only took that simple statement to have Ron's face burning bright as his hair. He yanked open the cold storage for sausages and bacon, absently waved his wand at the frying pan on the stove to heat it up as the breakfast meats began to sizzle. Pouring himself a coffee from the pot on the table, adding three generous spoons of sugar, Ron drank the scalding beverage before saying to his brother, "I thought it would be different, you know?"

"What, that there'd be little fanfares of trumpets from winged cherubs floating around, or that she'd think you're some kind of love god?" George shook his head.

Ron's face went even more scarlet. "Piss off you, then. I just tried to do what I thought she'd like."

"Don't ever say that around me again." George pulled a mock shudder. "Did you at least have some kind of protection potion?"

"That made it even worse. Hermione went to Mum for an Anti-Naissance Potion, and she overheard Dad asking Mum about it for me."

"Oh, that explains why she was a little daffy yesterday afternoon. I saw her come in from classes and if I didn't know better, I'd have thought she'd been Confunded or under the Imperius Curse. No wonder the poor lass looked so lost." George laughed a little, then changed his tone when he saw that his brother was more than a little upset. "Alright, my advice, and I'm only telling you this once. The only way to get better, and believe me little brother it most definitely will get better, is practice."

That night, after George came home from the London Rockets-Cornwall Bullets Quidditch match, he walked into the kitchen to grab a small glass of Butterbeer. He opened the cupboards to find the glassware rattling like wind chimes; it appeared little brother had taken his advice to heart.

From that point on, hearing the china clinking never bothered George again.


	4. Part Four

A few weeks passed and Ron and Hermione found their own rhythm, so to say, in their newly discovered physical intimacy; Hermione slowly found herself becoming less and less apprehensive towards the mechanics of it. Slowly but surely, with lots of that practice she'd suggested to Ron, things had begun to improve for both of them, so much so that there were several mornings where George had been only able to mutter his greetings and leaving Hermione and Ron to exchange bemused looks.

And the potion that Molly had given her was a wonderful safeguard. She'd been able to find the necessary ingredients to make her own store of it at Philomena's Pharmaceuticals, and was surprised to find several other former classmates – amongst them Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, even Cho Chang – picking out supplies for other potions Hermione had seen in Molly's book. It gave Hermione more than a little comfort to see every last one of them picking up ingredients for things like Counter-conception Cream and Preventative Potion Number Six. For her, it was a wonderful reminder that they had gone through the same thing she was going through at some point.

The one thing Hermione wasn't prepared for was bumping into Ginny there. She had just pulled her sack of gold from her book satchel when she heard a voice behind her ask, "This is the only bottle of Indian jasmine powder in store? I was told by a friend it is an excellent aphrodisiac and can easily be added to any beverage."

Without thinking, Hermione turned around and came face to face with her boyfriend's sister. Apparently physical relationships were something that embarrassed many of the Weasleys, as Ginny was also turning that shade of red that reminded Hermione of steam lobsters. She fumbled with her purse as she stammered, "Oh, hi Hermione. I didn't think I'd see you here. What is it you're buying?"

"Oh, um, ha-ha, some things to brew Anti-Naissance Potion."

"Well, then…congratulations, I guess."

Hermione smothered a chuckle. No way could she laugh about it at the moment. Maybe over a few Firewhiskeys down at the Cauldron, but not in line with a pleasant-faced witch waiting for Hermione's Galleons and Sickles. Hermione handed over the price of the potion ingredients, hastily stuffed them in her satchel.

"Are you coming to the party for Fleur? Arthur suggested the Muggle tradition of giving Fleur gifts for the soon-to-be-born baby, along with some parlour games and such."

"Oh, I'd love to, but the staff is going on retreat, to the British Magical Embassy in Northern Italy. We've been invited to a convention on Dark Arts Detection innovation."

"I see, and that there?"

"Oh, that," Ginny set the flask of mint-green powder on the countertop, "that's for mine and Harry's anniversary. One year next Saturday since we officially got back together." She stepped up to the counter and hand over her gold. "Is it really awkward, having your romantic nights when George lives with you?"

Not really, I guess. There are sometimes when he'll he the dishes rattling but-"

"The dishes rattling?"

Briefly Hermione explained herself, which rather than making Ginny laugh only made her nod in agreement. "Something like that happens to every couple, according to my girlfriends. George just probably grumbles because Alicia's on the road so much. Don't pay any attention to him, he was the same way over summer holidays when they were only writing back and forth to each other. Give my love to the boys," she said, hurrying out of the shop, where Hermione saw her run up to Harry and take off down the road.

Inspired, she turned back to the witch behind the counter. "What other powders do you have like that one?"

When Ron Apparated from his study group into the living room that night, the first thing that hit him was the fruity floral scent of Hermione's perfume she'd taken to wearing in the last few months, a gift from her parents for her acceptance into Kermartin. Then as he looked closer around the apartment, he saw that Hermione had lit dozens of candles. Ron titled his head in confusion; it wasn't like Hermione to leave candles burning unattended. She'd nearly taken off George's other ear when she saw he'd fallen asleep on the chesterfield and he'd left the lamp running.

He opened the door to his bedroom. "Hermione, what the blazes-"

Ron's speech was cut off in mid sentence as he looked around the room. Hermione had apparently taken some kind of Love Potion, for she had turned their quarters into some kind of fancy French-looking boudoir. The usual patchwork quilt and hand-spun sheets from his mother had been replaced by what looked like oceans of turquoise blue silk, and she'd conjured a Vista charm so that the walls appeared not as ecru but as beach surf with sugar-white beaches and gently swaying coconut palms. Ron could have sworn he heard toucans cawing, smelt the salt water.

But the best part was Hermione herself, wearing some silky-looking white robes, her bushy hair neatly slicked back so looked like a sheaf of wheat hanging over her shoulders. When she looked up at him, Ron lost all spit in his mouth; her face was like nothing he'd ever seen before. She'd made her eyes darker, larger somehow, like pools he would gladly drown in.

She slid off the bed, sauntered over to greet him with a warm kiss, wrapping her arms around his waist. "How was your study group?"

"Good," Ron managed. "What's all this?"

"I decided to try my hand at romance, since I know you have a horrible time with it."

"I do not!"

"Really? Describe last Valentine's to me."

Ron swallowed, hoping she'd never bring that up again. He'd given her a box of hand-made sweets, not knowing she was allergic to peanuts and her face then became covered in hives for the rest of the night, making any other kind of plans such as a fancy dinner null and void.

"Alright that was a disaster, but in my defence, I didn't know that you couldn't eat nuts."

"Well, either way, what do you think?" Hermione turned a small circle.

"I think you look like a princess." The truth was, Ron was afraid to touch her, scared that she might get smudged or dirty. He scrubbed his hands on the back of his jeans, ran his hands up her back. "You really did all this just so we could have a nice of being together? You must really love me."

Hermione's heart did a little hiccup. He'd first said those words to her only four months before, and every time he said them since, it felt like the first time all over again. She pulled on his shirt so that his balance failed and they tumbled back on to the bed, tugging at each others' clothing.

When they'd finished, lying sated on the soft sheets, Ron twisted onto his side to face Hermione.

"What else did you use?"

"Hmm?"

"I saw you used the Vista Charm and a few others, but there's something else."

Hermione flushed a little. "I added a little Sumatran Satsuma dust to the sand in the Vista Charm. It heightens your sense of smell, which is the most powerful sense of attraction. Did it work?"

Ron's response was simply to pull Hermione's wrist, so that she rolled on top of him. "Let's just say I'll be buying you a Sumatran Satsuma plant the minute I find one."


	5. Part 5

Hermione was cranky, pissed off and confused. It was the middle of February and she had her midterm assignments for Kermartin due in less than two weeks, and yet Ron absolutely insisted that they have dinner out that night. And in the middle of the week no less, not like on a Friday or Saturday night, the usual date nights for two people as busy as they were. On top of which, why in Merlin's name would Ron, now a professional cuisine artist – chef was too low a word for the creations that came out of Ron's kitchen – want to take her to The Gallivanting Gourmet, the very same restaurant where he worked to begin with?

She supposed she shouldn't complain, it didn't hurt that she did have a boyfriend who was skilled in the culinary department (Hermione could barely make toast without causing a natural disaster), and he was always puttering around in the kitchen with some herb or sauce that smelled like heaven during her long hours of study. He even catered a few of her study groups, providing trays of homemade granola bars and date squares and of course his favoured jam tarts. Though he claimed he liked using her hungry classmates as his guinea pigs, Hermione secretly knew it was Ron's way of making sure she took regular breaks and didn't study herself into anorexia.

And of course, there were those times when he'd snuck a little essence of Satsuma plant into her dinner bowl of soup or sprinkled it into her afternoon tea so that she'd take a break and relieve some of the tension physically with him. Those times, lying in bed or on the couch or, on one particular adventurous occasion the kitchen table, were the ones that Hermione thanked the creator of that particular horticultural hybrid and actually made the million pounds of legal texts seem like lead weights.

But those were also the times of September and April, when she could afford the time to spare an hour or two indulging. Right now she needed all her spare waking minutes preparing for her exams. The last thing she was interested in doing was getting all dolled up for a Wednesday night outing with Ron, and – the sneaky bastard – he'd sent his sister over to help her get dressed to make sure she wouldn't beg off on him.

All Hermione could do was run her fingers through her hair and look at the lovely sheep's wool sweater Ginny was thrusting at her.

"Really, Ginny, you'd think he'd be able to pick his battles a little better."

"Hermione, no one knows more than me how inconvenient men can be. Look at Harry and me; do you think that hooking up with me when he was in sixth year and I was fifth was the right time? I had my OWLs to worry about and he was going through his own personal hells about You-Know-Who."

"It's not the same, Ginny. You and Harry, you've both grown up and changed so much and you guys, you were just destined to wind up together, which I think is pretty obvious now," Hermione said grandly, gesturing to the diamond on Ginny's finger. "Does it still feel funny calling Harry your fiancé?"

"It did after the first few months but now I'm more nervous about the wedding we're planning for August. You think it's far away, but really, it's not!"

Hermione only smiled. She still had trouble wrapping her head around the idea that Ginny and Harry were engaged. It had been a wonderful little proposal, over Sunday dinner at the Weasley house. Everyone was there, even Charlie who was on vacation from Romania. Ginny and Harry had gone for a walk in the autumn twilight and moments later everyone heard a splitting shriek from outside. They'd run outside, coming to a screeching halt when Ginny all but yelled, "I'm getting married" as she wrapped her arms around Harry and smothered him with kisses. Mrs. Weasley, naturally had burst into tears, wailing, "My only daughter, engaged!", making Ron and Harry both turn rose red from scalp to chin.

Hermione knew it was probably since Ginny had made her a bridesmaid, but she was beginning to wonder if she'd see Ron getting down on bended knee for her in the future. Highly unlikely, as anytime Ginny or Hermione mentioned the wedding Ron squirmed like a Flobberworm on a fishing hook. Hermione didn't understand why the idea of marriage flustered men so much. The idea of a wedding, certainly; weddings were expensive, time consuming affairs not to mention the fact that it was public declarations of love, something which most men had a great difficult expressing in private. But marriage…Hermione never thought she'd say it, but she genuinely liked the idea of being Hermione Weasley the more and more Ginny's wedding was mentioned.

Still, those dreams would have to wait. Right now she wanted to finish making up her face and dressing for this dinner date with Ron. She turned in a circle for Ginny's approval of her snug-fitting charcoal sweater and olive green skirt. "What do you think?"

"The shoes. You should wear the pointy-heeled boots."

"Those death traps?" When Ginny set her jaw, Hermione relented. "Alright."

"There, now you look much better."

The two women walked out to the living, as Hermione stepped into the Apparating corner. She turned in a graceful circle, envisioning the front entrance of the Gallivanting Gourmet. When she arrived, for a moment, Hermione thought she'd gone to the wrong place. Normally the GG was bouncing with activity on a cold winter's night like this but there was not a soul to be seen, nor a drop of music, or ever sound come to that, emanating from the popular restaurant. Hermione peered in the window, saw a lone table lamp lit; her breath fogged the window, preventing any further inspection. She yanked open the door, looking inside for any sign of life.

"Hello? Ron? Imelda? Anyone?"

A well dressed wizard Apparated before her, offering his arm to her. "Miz Granger?" he asked in a thin French accent. "Mr. Wesley asked me to escort you to your table."

Confused beyond comprehension, Hermione allowed the wizard to lead her over to the table – the single table she'd seen lit from the window – where a bottle of sparkling white wine waited in a silver bucket. A basket of gardenias sat beside the bucket, filling the air with fragrance. Unwinding her scarf, Hermione sat as the wizard uncorked the wine, and poured a glass. Then quickly as he appeared, he disappeared, leaving Hermione to wonder just what the bloody hell was going on.

"Surprise."

Hermione twisted in her seat at Ron's voice, and felt her jaw drop. He was more dressed up than he'd ever been in Muggle clothing, in a nicely cut dark shirt and slacks, and he'd gotten a haircut. His hands were, as usual, jammed into his pockets, and he seemed more nervous than she'd ever seen him before, even worse than his keep tryouts in sixth year at Hogwarts.

He greeted her with a warm kiss, squeezing her hand tightly as he sat down across from her at the table.

"Ronald, what is going on? You're being very mysterious, inviting me to your restaurant all dark and deserted. Where is everyone?"

"I booked the restaurant out for us tonight." Knowing he had only a few moments, he took a deep breath. "Do you remember that music box your mother gave you as a birthday present?"

"Of course. It sang the song about the mocking bird. She got in when she was on vacation in America."

"Well, I tuned it up a little for you." Ron took out his wand and pointed it into the darkness so that it zoomed over to their table. "I hope you like it."

Hermione looked at the little box, made of sturdy mahogany and a tiny little bird etched into the top. When she lifted the lid she gasped out loud.

"Oh, Ronald."

Inside was a miniature bird just like the one on lid of the music box. In its mouth was a diamond ring. It was a thin band of woven wires that held a princess-cut stone, no bigger than the bird's eye. When Hermione held out her hand for the bird to hop out, the bird instead flew over to Ron and dropped the ring into his hand.

Then, like a bolt of lightening, everything made total sense. She felt her heart hitch in her chest, her throat close up. She buried her face in her hands; when she looked up, Ron was on his knee in front of her, holding the tiny ring in his hand.

"The first time I met you on the Hogwarts train, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

"We were eleven."

"I know, and I knew right away I'd be ruined for anyone else. Hermione Granger, will you ruin me? I mean marry me?" Ron corrected himself, embarrassed beyond belief that he'd muddled up the most important speech of his life.

"Yes," Hermione whispered as he slid the ring onto her finger, then pulled him to his feet as he kissed her. "Oh my God, Ron, I can't believe you did all of this for me."

"Do you know how long it took me to learn how to conjure a bird like that?"

"I can only imagine. But why is this place all dark?"

Ron only grinned. "I told you I rented it out for us tonight. Okay, you can all come in now!" he added, raising his voice.

Hermione looked around, and saw nearly fifty people streaming into the room. The Weasleys, all of them, were there, as were Harry and Neville and Luna and so many other classmates, as well as all of Ron's co-workers, who brought out steaming platters of food from the kitchens. Overwhelmed, Hermione launched herself into Ron's arms

"Ronald, you're going to spoil me rotten, I think."

"I know I am."

"Do you have any idea what we're getting ourselves into?"

"Not a clue. But I can't wait to find out."

Hermione kissed her boyfriend- no, her _fiancé _now. "Me neither."


End file.
